


Canorus Cacoethes

by draconic_leonic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, fuck you bro strider, other characters are referenced but aren't a part of the story so im not tagging them, warning for death? i didnt tag as major character death because he gets revived?, warning for violence although its not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 03:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draconic_leonic/pseuds/draconic_leonic
Summary: You feel the cold metal tear through your skin and for a brief second there's excruciating pain, the feeling of permanent death, the heroic kind, washes over you and then... nothing.Just nothing.It's what you deserve.(Or: in which Dirk hates himself & is shocked by the fact that other people care about him)





	Canorus Cacoethes

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short Dirk fic because he's my fave and I'm sad.

**== > Dirk: Martyr yourself for the greater good.**

Your name is DIRK STRIDER and you are currently fighting against a Lord-English-ified Dersite and his alternate universe carapace clone who has a hat, cybernetic prosthetics and for some reason a New York accent. To aid you in your fight against these two pawn looking bastards is a blind troll girl who won't stop licking stuff and your alternate universe brother/son.

You fly back from Lord Jack and take a quick moment to asses the situation. Terezi is fighting the cyborg douche and Dave is backing her up, or he was before he got kicked in the gut. You jerk every so slightly in Dave's direction, as if to help him, and in your split second moment of distraction you are dealt a devastating punch across the face.

You barely have have time to ponder how your shades somehow didn't fly off of your face or take in the fact that your cheekbone is probably broken before Lord Jack is pouncing on you and attempting to hook his shitty burgundy crowbar, that is definitely souped up with demonic powers or some shit, under your chin. If it weren't for your unbreakable katana getting in the way the dude would be choking you out right now.

You realist that this is bad, like majorly bad, like 'oh dear god these shiny assholes might win and kill all my friends' kinda bad. Just as you rear you knee up to kick Jack in the crotch (Do carapaces even have dicks?) there's a Terezi pitched yell from behind you and the crowbar gets pulled even tighter from behind you, forcing the flat side of your blade to press against your nose, the cool metal contrasting against your bloody, sweaty, beat up face.

You hazard turning your head to the left ever so slightly and see that the other carapace has his not even comically big golden cane hooked under Jack's chin.

' _Fuck_ ' you think to yourself.

' ** _Fuck_** ' you think again, for good measure.

You acknowledge that even if you were to kick Jack in the Jack Junior it'd just push him further back into Chess Douche #2 which will only lead to this whole weapon-against-necks situation getting even worse for you, shit, unless Terezi or Dave intervene this is gonna end real bad. Wait fuck, Dave & Terezi! Are the two of them okay?

You whip your head around to look at Dave who's currently lying on the ground, focused on... is that a firefly? What the fuck? From somewhere across the roof you hear Terezi curse something about her ribs. Okay, shit, Terezi'll probably be out of commission for a while, now how are you going to get Dave to help you out with out drawing the attentions of Chess Douches #1 and #2? Fortunately Dave turns to look at you before you do something stupid like call out to him. His jaw goes tight when he sees the situation you're in and you're somewhat struck by how much he looks like your Bro.

You've got Dave's attention, he's got a sword, you've got a plan. You look him in the eyes through your shades and try to telepathically communicate to him what you need him to do. He gives you a dumbfounded look and you raise your eyebrows, dammit you don't have time for this, Jack's angry breath on the back on your neck is as much an uncomfortable sensation as it is a reminder that you're really close to dying and leaving a battered Dave and a winded Terezi to fight these two asshats.

You jerk your head slightly as Dave clambers to his feet, supporting himself on his welsh sword. Dammit come on Dave! Your Bro was smart, smart as all hell, you don't know him super well (your Bro or Dave for that matter) but you know he'll understand, he has too. After what feels like years Dave stands up fully and grips his sword, his mouth twisting into a determined line. He gets it, he knows what you need him to do.

Dave lifts his sword up with two hands, letting it sit above his left shoulder. His feet shift and Dave shoots forwards in the most gracefully executed flashstep you've ever seen. His sword whistles towards your neck and you don't flinch, you don't shut your eyes. You look at Dave straight on and hope he'll understand how sorry you are for making him do this. Its only as his legendary Welsh sword snaps your unbreakable katana clean in half you realize that SBURB is definately going to count this as a heroic death. Good, for once in your life you can help people instead of wrecking everything. You try to mentally apologize to everyone. To Jake for being a manipulative and overbearing asshole, to Jane for alienating her and acting as if she wasn't important, to Roxy for never being able to love her back in the way she loved you, to Calliope for spending more time for talking to her shithead of a 'brother' than her, to Hal for giving him sentience only to trap him in a computer, to everyone for-

You feel the cold metal tear through your skin and for a brief second there's excruciating pain, the feeling of permanent death, the heroic kind, washes over you and then... nothing.

Just nothing.  
  
It's what you deserve.

**== > Dirk: Die.**

You awaken to the sight of your bedroom tipped on its side, you're confused for a second before you register that you're lying on your bed. As you sit up you see that you're no longer in your poofy asshole pants and the rest of your godtier garb but instead you're wearing your black tripp pants and one of your many white t-shirts. Nice, way better than that princey pink bullshit.

You clamber off of your bed and look around your room, its exactly how you remember it. Same pile hats on the floor, same plushies scattered about, same pictures on your wall. The sound of waves crashing against themselves draws you to your window. The view of the ocean soothes you, its the same ocean you looked out on as a kid, wondering if there was anything beyond the horizon. Now it's the sight you'll spend the rest of your existence looking at, the only difference is now that burning desire for something to break up the monotonousness, for someone else to be out there, for something, is gone. You're perfectly content in your solitude, it's not as if you forcing your dreadful presence on people has ever been a good thing for anyone involved. As far as dreambubbles go, this one is rather comfy.

You cross your arms over the windowsill and take in a deep breath of salty air. You always knew you'd end up back here, alone, retributing for your sins against other squirreled away from them. 'This is fine' you tell yourself.

You're going to stay in this solitary dreambubble, in this apartment, this room until Lord English comes and double-kills you himself. Away from all the dead versions of your friends, your family, the trolls, yourself. You're going to stay in this dreambubble until you fade away, forgotten by time like so many others before you have been and how so many others after you will.

It's what you deserve.

You don't know when you start crying.

**== > Dirk: Rise up.**

You jolt up and are met with the endless black of Paradox Space surrounding you. You have no time to register what the everloving fuck is going on before you've suddenly got an armful of a sobbing Jane.

"Dirk Strider for the love of god don't you ever do that again!" she chokes out around a mouthful of snot and tears.

Jane brought you back, of course she did, she's a Maid of Life, of course she'd bring you back. As the realization that Jane apparently cares enough about you to revive you settles in to your decapitation-then-reanimation addled brain a sharp squeal cuts through the air and then Roxy is hugging you on your other side, sobbing nonsense into your shirt.

"Holy fuck Distri you're okay! We weren't sure if you were gonna make it, your head was clean off" she wipes her eyes on your shirt and then carries right on.

"Davey brought your head back, looped through time 'n' all that to get it, you should've seem his face Dirk he was so worried"

You're cut of from having to think of an intelligent response to that by Jake crashing into your back and wrapping his arms around you, Jane and Roxy.

"You're okay, you're okay, thank god you're okay" he snivels in your ear, his glasses pressed against the back of your head.

With nothing much else to do you sink into the three warm bodies holding you. You've hurt them, you've hurt all three of them so much but here they are getting their tears on your shirt and babbling about how they're so happy your alive.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes and your face scrunching up. Just as the first quiet whimper makes its way up your throat Dave's concerned face fills your vision.

"Hey man.. you okay?" he asks, and you laugh at how awkward it sounds but halfway through it turns into a sob.

"I'm good dude, I'm real fucking good, just... thanks for bringing me back" that last part is said in almost a whisper, as if you can't believe that all these people you've caused immeasurable amounts of harm to actually give a shit about you. (You honestly can't believe it)

"Anytime Bro... anytime" Dave smiles and a warm feeling spreads in your heaving chest. He's probably the person you hurt the most, you forced your aggressive, abusive, sociopathic, Machiavellian bullshit on him for 13 years. But here he his, smiling at you and reassuring you that he'll save you again if need be.

As you cry, eyes burning, head tipped towards the sky, you think, selfishly, that this definitely isn't what you deserve, but it's what you oh so desperately need.

**== > Dirk: Start fixing your broken heart.**

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me &/or hit me up at http://kaleidoscopic-quiddity.tumblr.com I am the master of shameless social media plug, it is me.


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